USA > Pennsylvania > Westmoreland County > History of Westmoreland county, Pennsylvania, Vol. I > Part 20
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 | Part 76 | Part 77
173
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
none of their clothes, furniture nor belongings, not even provisions for a single meal. In a few minutes all were in the fort who wanted to go in, and preparations were made to close the gate of the palisades.
There were several young men who did not want to enter the fort, but who preferred to stay out and fight the Indians in their own way. These were rangers whose exploits in Indian warfare have been referred to be- fore. They regarded it as their duty to seek the protection of the fortress only after they had warned the entire settlement of the presence of the Indians. Among these were James Brison, David Shaw and Matthew Jack. There were several others, but their names have not come down to us. James Brison, is, by the way, the same young man who, as clerk to Arthur St. Clair, kept the early court records in such splendid shape. He- and David Shaw and others volunteered to go north toward the approach- ing Indians and learn something of their strength and their intention. There was no way for them to go but on foot, yet be it said to their credit that they went willingly. But before Shaw, Brison and their associates started, Matthew Jack had mounted his gallant horse and set out, not directly to the north, but in a circular direction, intending to pass around and recon- noiter the enemy, and learn all that could be learned there, and also notify all the surrounding settlements of their presence.
The Indians did not at once pursue the reapers. Their object had evi- dently been to make way with them and then attack the town without warning. Thinking, perhaps, that the reapers did not know the strength of the invaders, and that they would return to pursue them, they waited nearly an hour at the grain field, instead of chasing the reapers to the fort. Captain Jack was not a citizen of Hannastown, but chanced to be in the village that day, perhaps in attendance at court. By rapid riding he very soon reached the vicinity of the grain field and discovered the strength of the band. They were apparently deliberating upon the place of attack. Jack was a ranger whose perceptive qualities had been sharpened by much usage. He saw the Indians before they saw him, and turning to. ride back, was followed by them. On the way he met Shaw, Brison and the others, whom he warned to run for their lives, and said he would circle around somewhat before entering the fort, and still, owing to the fleetness of his horse, be able to enter with the scouting party. He was naturally daring and courageous, and had probably no more fear of the Indians than if they had been so many wild animals. He therefore rode to the south- east and came to the cabin of the Love family, (lately the John L. Bierer farm) whom he warned to flee. He took Mrs. Love and her children on the horse behind him, and galloped toward the fort. The scouting party- Shaw, Brison and their associates-took Jack's advice and ran as rapidly as they could toward Hannastown. The Indians, following on Jack's trail, soon caught sight of the scouting party, and gave them a hard run for their lives. They undoubtedly mistook them for the reapers, who,
174
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
they supposed, had not yet warned the citizens of the town. If, therefore, they could catch them, they could still surprise the citizens of Hannastown. On any other theory. the Indians would have shot them while on the run, but a shot fired would have aroused the town. It was a very exciting race for life. The distance was about a mile, with this advantage only on the part of the scouts, namely, that they knew the ground thoroughly, knew every short-cut path to take or hill to evade. This familiarity with the ground probably won the race for them. They knew too, that if they could reach a stream which flowed into the Crab Tree Run, from a spring near the fort, they would be safe, for there they would be practically under the protec- tion of the rifles in the fort. The foremost Indians, they concluded, would not venture much nearer than the run until they were joined by the main forces. Before they reached the creek they could hear the foot sounds of their pur- suers, and a backward glance revealed the naked breasts and glistening fore- locks of the savages. All of them ran directly to the fort except Shaw. He first ran to his father's house to see if they were all safe, and then made for the stockade gate. Before he reached the gate the savages were swarming on the banks of the Crab Tree below. The fearless scout drew up his long barreled gun and, taking deliberate aim, sent his unerring ball to end the career of a warrior, and then quickly ran into the fort. He was the last to enter, and the gate was closed and barred at once. Thus all the Hannastown people had passed the stockade gates before the Indians reached the town.
In Michael Huffnagle's report he says that at about two o'clock in the afternoon the town, consisting of about thirty houses and cabins, was at- tacked by about one hundred and fifty Indians and Tories. When they saw that they had failed to surprise the town, and that the scalps must be fought for, if gained by them, they gave forth a prolonged, indescribable Indian yell, resembling the cry of an infuriated wild beast in torture, the recollection of which alone caused those who had escaped to shudder with horror, long years afterward. The Indians then took possession of the houses and cabins in the town, in full view of the fort. Clothes and household goods were thrown into the streets. Some of the bolder Indians arrayed themselves in these clothes, and, brandishing knives and tomahawks, danced in full view of the fort, though at a safe distance from it. They soon assembled to consult as to what should be done. Their gestures and talk were most vehement, but they were appar- ently controlled by their leaders, who seemed to be white men dressed as Indians. There seems to be no doubt but that this assembly of Indians and their renegade white leaders could have been successfully fired on by the armed forces in the fort. But those in the fort were slow to begin battle, knowing their own weakness. They knew also that the force of Indians, though at considerable loss, could take the fort, and that their own safety lay in receiving additional strength. After the consultation was ended, part of the band, per- haps about one-third, started off in the direction of Miller's blockhouse. There were, according to Huffnagle's report, about one hundred remaining and about
175
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
fifty in the squad which went away. In a short time those remaining set fire to the town in many places, and perhaps in every house. These houses had been built some years, and their clapboard roofs were perfectly dry. In a few minutes the entire town, save two houses which were too near the fort for them to fire, was in flames. One house left standing was Robert Hanna's, which had served as a court house since the county was erected. The Indians found some rum and whisky in the houses, and with the aid of this they had a very jovial time while the town was burning. They paraded in the garments of the set- tlers in full view of the fort, but at a safe distance. One Indian, however, decked himself out in a bright colored military coat which he had taken from one of the houses. He at length grew bold, and paraded, peacock-like, too close to the stockade. Some one within, it is not known who, took a steady shot at him. The Indian leaped into the air and fell dead. Thus his vanity cost him his life.
All communication with the outside world was cut off when the stockade gate was closed. There were several scouts out, but they did not return. On the contrary, they kept moving about, alarming the settlement and trying to devise some means of rescuing the inmates of the fort. The stockade at Han- nastown was naturally a strong one, but on this occasion its defense was very weak. Some reports say that they had only nine firearms, some say thirteen, but all agree that they were of a poor quality, being the cast-off arms of the militia. It is possible that a few of the scouts, like Shaw and Brison, had good arms. The Hannastown people in the fort were largely elderly men and women and children. The young people of the community were at Miller's block- house that afternoon, as will be seen later on.
This weak condition of the fortress was known to those outside, and hence their anxiety to devise some means of rescue rather than to try to save them- selves. The whole number of those in the fort is not known, nor are their names given in any of the accounts, except such few who performed certain services worthy of special remark in the reports. At Miller's blockhouse, two and a half miles southeast of Hannastown, were collected about forty people. Samuel Miller had been a captain in the Eighth Regiment of the Pennsylvania Line, but had been killed on July 7, 1778, while detailed in the recruiting ser- vice in Westmoreland. His widow had married Andrew Cruickshanks. At all times their house was open for all who came there socially or for safety. In addition to the blockhouse there were several log cabins built nearby, and all of them were strong in times of Indian raids, and were, moreover, capable of being quickly barricaded. The Millers were a lively, sociable people, and thither went the young men and maidens often for an evening's dance. But these forty more or less people who were at Miller's that day did not go there for safety, for it is well known that there were several people there from Han- nastown, among whom were Judge Robert Hanna's wife and daughters. Now, were they in quest of place of safety against the Indians, they would have re- mained at home, for the Hannastown stockade was stronger than Miller's
176
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
blockhouse. It was the strongest fort between Fort Pitt and Fort Ligonier. It has often been asserted that there was a wedding there that day, and this was the chief attraction, but this has as often been denied. Justice Richard Coul- ter, who wrote his account of the burning of Hannastown in 1836, and who gathered much of his material directly from those who were captured at Mil- ler's, as well as from others who participated in the affair, says this about the wedding: "At Miller's there had been a wedding the day before. Love is a delicate plant, but will take root in the midst of perils in gentle bosoms. A young couple, fugitives from the frontier, fell in love and were married."
From the best testimony the writer can obtain, the Justice's story is reason- ably well corroborated. Two families named Dunlap and Courla had some time previous to this moved farther west than Westmoreland, and were driven back by the Indians in the summer of 1782. James Duncan, who has been described as a young man of superior looks and bearing, belonged to one of the returning families, and Mary Courla, a young Scotch girl who was long after- ward written of as a very lovely and beautiful woman, belonged to the other. Love in this case, like wild violets, blossomed in the wilderness, and they, on their hurried flight from their frontier homes, were married near Hannastown, on July 12, 1782. In the olden time the wedding day was the bride's day, and the next day was the groom's, and its chief gathering was called the "Infair." This day was often a gayer and more festive occasion than the wedding day itself. It was celebrated at Miller's blockhouse, and this is doubtless the reason why so many young people were there that fatal afternoon. From the fact that neither the bride nor the groom were then residents in that community, and that the gay assembly was not celebrating a wedding ceremony but an infair, has probably sprung most of the doubt surrounding it. It is, moreover, on the other hand, a fact that there were but few weddings among the pioneer fam- ilies during the Revolution and Indian war troubles. But the very fact that these ceremonies were so few and far between may have been the reason that so many guests were bidden and present. All accounts agree that there were many women there, chief among whom were Mrs. Hanna and her daughters. The company had perhaps all assembled. There had been dancing to the tune of a fiddle, and playing and great glee among the guests, as was the custom in that day. Everything went off merrily until about the middle of the after- noon, when suddenly, like a peal of thunder from a cloudless sky, the war- whoop burst upon their ears, and a band of savages rushed into their midst.
Among the men who were there was Captain Brownlee, whose deeds as a ranger have been mentioned. He was also one of Captain Erwin's bravest soldiers in the Eighth Pennsylvania Regiment. When his enlistment expired he left the service and devoted his energies to Indian fighting on the frontier. In this he was very successful. He did not discriminate between a good and a bad Indian, thinking perhaps that there were none of the former class. He thought it his duty to kill an Indian as he would a snake or a dangerous wild beast. Yet he was an excellent neighbor and a good husband and father. In-
177
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
deed, it was to protect those he loved that he remained at home rather than do service in the army. Few names are better or more honorably known in border warfare than that of Brownlee. He lived on a farm a short distance northwest of Miller's blockhouse, lately the Frederick Cope farm, and now owned by the Jamison Coal Company.
On the afternoon of the Hannastown trouble some men were mowing in a field not far from Miller's blockhouse. Their quick ears caught the rumbling of firing at Hannastown, and this was the first intimation they had of any difficulty. At once they became apprehensive of danger and hastened to the blockhouse. They left the field none too soon, for, as they were leaving it, the fifty or more Indians from the Hannastown band of marauders entered it at the other side. Here again the Indians were foiled, for they undoubtedly meant to capture the men in the field and thus have an easy victory at Miller's. By the time the mowers reached the blockhouse the Indians were but a short distance behind, and the sound of the war-whoop had already terrified the festive women and children. Some shots were fired, but the Indians very soon closed in on the frightened party, and all were in the wildest confusion. A few women ran over the hills and some of them escaped. A little girl, who lived to be an old and highly respected woman, hid herself among the black- berry bushes until night came. Most of those left behind were women and
children. The cries of these helpless people, mingled with the Indian yells, added to the consternation of the few fighters who were left. But the mowers did not desert them. One or two, at least, lost their lives in trying to save those who were comparative strangers to them. But, though strangers, they were defenseless women, and that has always called forth the best efforts of Anglo-Saxon manhood. Those who ran at the first sign of danger made their escape by going to the George cabin, while others made good their way to Rugh's blockhouse. Some few, like the little girl, hid in the fields till night- fall. The majority, and perhaps the more timid ones, remained in the houses and were all captured.
When the Indians arrived, Brownlee was in the blockhouse, most likely as a guard, and Mrs. Brownlee and her children were also there. He seized his rifle and ran out to intercept two Indians who were just entering the yard. He could easily have escaped, and it was probably his intention to do so, with the hope of forming a strong party and overtaking them should they capture and carry away the women and children. But his wife cried to him, "Captain, you are not going to leave me, are you?" The brave man turned around and gave himself up as a prisoner to those to whom he had never before bent his knee. He had faced the hostile Indians time and again, but he could not resist the plea of his wife. No one who knew him imagined that he could make a selfish escape. Very soon the blockhouses and cabins were surrounded, and all were prisoners. Part of the Indian force was then sent out to hunt down the fright- ened women and children who had escaped. Most of them were soon over- taken and brought back to Miller's as prisoners. 12
178
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
Among those who escaped by flight was the daughter of Judge Hanna. She was taken on horseback by Samnel Findley, a pack-horse driver, and car- ried to the country, and thus escaped. A young man who had hastened to Miller's to give the alarm, in making his escape took with him a child, which it is said was one of Brownlee's. He was very soon pursned by three or four Indians who were gaining on him, although he could easily have distanced them in a foot race had he not been burdened by the child. This race was kept up for some time, and the young man's strength was rapidly waning. Fortunately, he came to a thick growth of underbrush, and beyond it was a high rail fence which bordered a field of uncut rye. He passed through the brush, mounted the fence, and jumped from the top of it as far into the rye field as he could. While in the brush and crossing the fence he was out of sight of the Indians. Then he lay down on the ground in the rye with the child, which fortunately kept quiet. The Indians came up and passed him without discovering him. They soon returned and looked more closely, but did not find him. Their time was necessarily brief, and they left with many mutterings of disgust.
Another young man was escaping with his child, and was also assisting his mother, an elderly woman, in the race, for a number of Indians were in hot pursuit of them, when he found that all would be captured unless he abandoned one or the other. So he put down the child, and helping his mother, they both escaped. Now comes the strange part of the story, which, by the way, is well authenticated. The Indians passed the child, perhaps unnoticed ; at all events, they did not kill it. The next morning the child was found in the former home safe and sound. After the storm was over it had probably in- nocently wandered back to it's home.
Mrs. Cruickshank also tried to escape with a child, and was assisted by her brother. They were pursued by but one Indian. Finally, as he was gain- ing upon them, the brother turned and fired at him. The Indian dodged behind trees and the shot may have missed him. But he did not pursue them further. In the excitement of shooting at the Indian they forgot the child and ran on without it. The next morning it, too, was found in it's cabin home at Millers, sleeping the sleep of innocent childhood in it's own little cot. This child lived to be an old woman. She was married to a man named Campbell, and often related the story as it was given to her from lips that had long since been silent.
All these and many more were the happenings of a half-hour after the In- dians reached Miller's. Soon after the Indian party captured Brownlee, true to his promise, Captain Jack came galloping toward the house to give the alarmı. As he approached he saw he was too late, for he was not slow to perceive that the yard was full of Indians. He therefore turned his horse and galloped wildly away. The Indians had remained quiet as he approached, but as he turned they sent a shower of bullets after him. They all missed him, although they whistled about his head and one cut his bridle rein. From there he rode over the country to George's, where the fugitives from Miller's were
179
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
collecting, and where a relief party of pioneers was rapidly being organized.
But the alarm was not confined to this community alone. It was a still, calm afternoon, preceding a rain, when sound traveled a long distance. Many in the neighborhood heard the excessive firing and were on the alert. At Unity church, six or seven miles east of Miller's, the congregation had met for pre- paratory communion services when the rumor of the incursion came. The people lastened to their homes, and the pastor, Rev. James Power, who lived long afterward to tell the story, rode with his utmost speed to his home near Mt. Pleasant. Men in fields heard the distant roar of muskets, and went to their homes to make bullets, call in their children, and barricade the openings in their cabins. All near Allen's fort were gathered there. About one and a half miles north of Greensburg, on the Salem road, lived a man named Kepple. He was in his field, and noticed his dog frisking angily about as though he scented danger. He also heard the far-off rumble, perhaps from Hannastown. He hastily unhitched his horses and went to his log house, which was built for a residence and fortress both. One or two families of the neighborhood also gathered there. They at once closed up the openings and were prepared for a siege.
The Indians proceeded hurriedly to secure the prisoners taken at Miller's. The hands of the men were tied behind their backs, and after taking from the houses all they wanted in the way of provisions, clothes, etc., they fired the blockhouse, which was consumed. The smaller cabins were not all de- stroyed. Those who went there for safety had taken with them their live- stock, consisting of cattle, horses and a few sheep. These were all shot by the Indians. Both Huffnagle and Duncan, in their reports, estimate that one hun- dred cattle were killed. Of the captive prisoners the most conspicuous man was Captain Brownlee. Two of Robert Hanna's daughters were at Miller's participating in the function that afternoon, and one was taken. They are said to have been very attractive young women. Their names were Marion and Jeanette.
The captive prisoners were made to carry the goods stolen from their honses. The women and children were driven in a flock. It was a sad march, yet some stout hearts kept up, perhaps in the hope of relief by pursuing neigh- bors, for this was not an unusual happening in border warfare. Brownlee kept up his courage, and undoubtedly added strength to the disconsolate party. At length an unthinking woman, said to have been Mrs. Robert Hanna, through her tears, said, "Captain Brownlee, it is well you are here to cheer us up." This unfortunate remark was undoubtedly the first intimation the Indians had that their docile prisoner was their fearless enemy, Captain Brownlee. All the Indians knew him by name and reputation, but few Indians who met him face to face ever disturbed settlers afterwards. After all was over it was plain to Captain Brownlee's friends that he was all the while attempting to conceal his identity with the hope of keeping up the concealment for a day or so, when all might be rescued. None knew better than he that his days
180
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
were numbered when the Indians discovered who he was. It was thus to con- ceal his name that he gave himself up when resistance would probably have availed him nothing. He kept quiet, and was extremely meek when they tied his hands and placed heavy burdens on his back. All this was entirely unlike the bold and fearless Brownlee, whom the Indians knew of only. All his acts were now apparently indicative of perfect submission. He was evidently try- ing to deceive them. All his friends, both among the prisoners and among those who were free, believed implicitly that he would soon escape, perhaps that night, and return with a full knowledge of their strength and how best to follow and attack them. If so, he could raise a company which would avenge the outrage at Miller's. But at the time his name was mentioned by the unfor- tunate woman, his doom was decided on. Immediately there were hasty glances from one Indian to another, and two of them in gutteral tones con- sulted together. In addition to his burden he was carrying one of his children on his back. As he bent down to enable the innocent child to cling more tightly with its arms around his neck, a savage sneaked up behind him and buried a hatchet in his brain. Brownlee fell dead, and the child rolled over him. As it was scrambling to it's feet the Indian killed it in the same way. A woman near by screamed and fell swooning to the ground. She met with the same ill fate, the Indians doubtless mistaking her for the wife of Brownlee. Mrs. Brownlee, on account of her children and the other captives, was compelled to witness these barbarous deeds in the silent agony of despair. The Brownlees' bodies and that of the woman were found about one-half mile from Miller's, and were buried, as was the custom then, on the spot where they fell. Over his grave stood a wild cherry tree which grew to immense size and marked the spot for many years. A second grew from its roots or stump, and it is now half grown, and is preserved by the owner of the field, Mr. J. J. Blank. It is but a short distance east from his residence. The farm was formerly the Meckling farm.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.